


Shining Armor

by Dee_Laundry



Series: My Fathers' Son [24]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-13
Updated: 2010-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-14 03:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first treatment is to rest and avoid activities that aggravate your symptoms." (about.com)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shining Armor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Camp Sick!Wilson "Incorporate These Three Things" Challenge. Thanks to [](http://nightdog-barks.livejournal.com/profile)[**nightdog_barks**](http://nightdog-barks.livejournal.com/) for the beta.

"It looks like a horror movie in here," Cuddy exclaimed as she walked into Wilson's living room. Trolls, dinosaurs, and dragons of multiple sizes and colors glared down from several of the bookcases; a scimitar and an axe (both quite obviously foam, but still) had been thrown across a chair; and warriors from a variety of armies were set up in formation across the floor. On the coffee table stood a hideous gray plastic castle ornamented with red gargoyles and a white skull gate. "Are those... skeleton soldiers?"

"Skeleton _knights_ ," Wilson clarified. "House wanted to refer to them as Children of the Hydra's Teeth, but Jack's a little young to be introduced to Ray Harryhausen monsters."

"Harry who?"

"Never mind. Thanks for coming over." He lowered himself stiffly, carefully onto the couch, only allowing his right hip to hit the seat cushion before lying down on his side.

Cuddy kept herself from wincing in sympathy, but it was difficult. She'd grimaced when she'd first heard about the twisting, wrenching fall he'd had: dark hallway plus baseball bat left on the floor plus furniture impeding rather than breaking his fall equaled _ouch_. She'd offered to come back early from her conference to help out, but Wilson had said no. "Still a lot of pain, huh?"

"No, no," Wilson immediately demurred, though the tension in his posture, even lying down, told a different tale. "It only really hurts when I sit. But with the marauding hordes --" He gestured toward the plastic soldiers across the floor. "I have to be careful where I step. Easier just to lie here."

"Lazy bones," House growled, surprising Cuddy. She hadn't noticed him coming down the hall. "Won't even get up and make dinner. You're lucky I'm here," he continued, pointing at Wilson. "If not for me, you'd be starving to death."

"Yes," Wilson scoffed, "I do appreciate the herculean effort you put into calling Cuddy and telling her to bring over takeout." His sarcasm was undercut, however, by the pained flinch his attempt at a snort induced.

House's eyes narrowed, and Cuddy decided to take the cue she'd been given. "I brought Japanese," she said, raising the bags high. "Edamame and _gyoza_ for Jack, right? California roll and extra miso soup for Wilson. And, yes, House, before you badger me again, I did get you _unagi don_."

"I didn't know you were that into eel," Wilson mentioned from the couch, as House began to lead the way toward the kitchen.

"I'm not," House called back. "I just like how dirty it sounds when she says it."

Cuddy swatted House on the arm in retaliation and then put the bags on the counter. As House handed her plates she asked, "How is he, really? His pain seems to be a little high."

House shrugged and busied himself with rummaging through the silverware drawer. "He did it to himself. Didn't take it easy the first day after the accident, and his middle-aged spine let him know what a bad idea that was."

"Herniated disk?"

"Yep."

With amusement, Cuddy noted that House had retrieved regular china dishes for Wilson and her, and plastic Spiderman plates for himself and Jack. She decided not to comment on it, though.

"But," House continued, "MRI showed no tumors, abscesses, or anything out of the ordinary to have caused the herniation; it was just plain old lower back sprain compounded by garden-variety stupidity in pushing himself too fast."

Cuddy speared a small chunk of tofu and had a quick bite. "And that's why the soldiers are standing guard? I wondered why Jack let his toys stay a mess."

House smiled slyly. "Had to get the idiot off his feet somehow." He picked up Wilson's plate and his own. "Which means I have to fetch and carry, of course. Get the drinks? Glasses are up there; water and everything else is in the fridge. I didn't bring over sake, but Wilson's got some girly white wine in there you might like."

"Why, thank you," she replied, unsure whether to be amused and grateful or annoyed and grateful. Jack wandered in as House was going out, and Cuddy decided pleased was definitely the way to go. "Hi, sweetheart. Dinner's here; you like _gyoza_ , right?"

"Yeah, it's awesome," he replied, climbing on the barstool next to the kitchen island. "Thanks."

Pouring water for all of them, Cuddy smiled. "It's my pleasure. Must be hard having your Pop laid up." Jack raised his eyebrows, and she realized she'd used an older phrase, one a nine-year old might not ever have heard. "'Laid up' means 'having to rest and not being able to do what you normally do, because you're sick or hurt.'"

"Oh," Jack said, his delight in learning a new phrase or word evident. "Yeah, I guess it is." He munched on a dumpling contemplatively. "Kind of."

That was not the reaction she'd expected. "Kind of?"

Shrugging, Jack slipped off the barstool, plate in hand. "Kind of hard, but... Dad's been here the whole three days since Pop fell. He came over right away, got here before the ambulance did."

As Jack walked out of the kitchen his voice grew quieter, but Cuddy still heard him.

"Should've left my bat out a long time ago."


End file.
